A/N
Title: Spencer Rocket
Author: Ihli
Rating/Warnings: M/Prostitution, Slash, language, sex, etc
Pairing: Hotch/Reid
Summary: Prostitutes are dying in Las Vegas and the BAU is called in to catch the unsub responsible. Hotch has never met anyone like hooker Spencer Rocket. Hotch/Reid Slash!
Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds or any of the characters I just like to play with them sometimes. I promise to put them back where I found them.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed chapter 3. Many of you are asking how Spencer ended up here. It'll come. I hope you enjoy this next chapter. Please Review.
Thanks to The Shameless BookWorm for Beta'ing this chapter! All mistakes are mine.
Chapter 4Officer Bitek approached. "Hey, it's the Rocket. You get picked up again?"
"Hello Officer Bitek. I'm here helping the FBI."
"Oh yeah, the whore case. What, are you helping them relax after work?"
"No." Spencer wanted to defend himself. But what was the point? He was just a whore.
"Why do they have you all dressed up like a normal person? They do know what you are?"
"Yes." I am worthless.
"Hey, since they're busy, how about a quickie in the back room? You know how greasing the monkey can keep the cops off your corner."
I don't want him. I don't want this. Hotch owns my time. But, soon the FBI agents will leave, and I will be left with Bitek. They are probably finished with me anyways; they have their profile. I better keep Bitek happy. "Sure, I need to stay close; they are expecting me."
"Come on to the store room. No one'll interrupt us there." Bitek gestured down a short hall to a closed door. Spencer followed him as Bitek waddled down the hall. He wondered just how many donuts the man ate in a day.
Spencer schooled his expression. He half-closed his eyes and put on a seductive smile. With his game face on he asked, "What do you want? I'm always happy to service our fine men in blue."
It worked. It always worked. Men saw that face, and their cocks sprang to attention. Bitek licked his lips, coating them in his foul smelling saliva. "Since your time is limited, a blow job will do."
Spencer knelt in front of the officer, unzipping his pants and reaching in for his already aroused member. Just as he leaned in and the strong scent of the officer's sweat nauseated him, a voice barked out.
"Officer, I'm sorry but Spencer is otherwise engaged." Hotch's voice. Spencer cringed.
"Oh, agent, are you sure you mind sharing? Spencer, we call him the rocket around here, wasn't busy." Bitek placed his hand on Spencer's head, giving it a little shake.
Aaron's voice was firm, his death glare directed at the officer. "I'm sorry, Spencer is working for the FBI right now, and we need to go."
Spencer shrugged at Bitek, trying to convey this wasn't his choice although he was silently relieved.
Spencer stood and walked over to Hotch.
"We've finished giving the profile. Come with me." His voice was cold and hard. He didn't speak again until they were alone in the car. Spencer was terrified. Hotch was clearly angry at him. Would he beat him or just dump him at his corner?
"You're that eager to… do your job… that you needed to take on another… client?" Hotch asked in a soft voice that seemed full of menace.
"I… I didn't ask for that, but Bitek can make my life hell when you're gone." Spencer's face was wet, his stomach churned with shame. "He would not have taken no well."
CMCMCMCMCM
Hotch considered that. He had been jealous and angry seeing Spencer about to suck another man. But he tried to see it from Spencer's side. Spencer eyes were wide; tears leaked from the corners.
He could see it now. The officer had probably given Spencer no choice. This was his reality. Why?
He had to ask. He had to try and understand what could take someone with such an extraordinary mind and reduce them to this. "Level with me Spencer. Why do you do this job?"
Spencer looked away out the window. Every gesture screaming at Hotch that Spencer hated himself. "What else can I do? I had no choice, and now I'm stuck with it."
Hotch could not understand. "Someone with your intelligence has a variety of choices, college for one."
Spencer looked at Hotch, his face hard. "College isn't an option for me. I dropped out of high school, and I couldn't afford the tuition anyways. I need the money." The last was said in so quiet a voice that Hotch had to strain to hear.
Hotch knew Spencer wanted this conversation to end and that he had something dark in his past to hide. "What is so important that you need the money? I saw the track marks on your arm. Is this about drugs?"
Now Spencer, looked up, eyes wide, mouth forming an O. Then his faced hardened, his eyebrows drew down, and his fists clenched. "I'm clean. I've been clean for years. I never wanted to do that shit in the first place."
Hotch started to shake his head without even realizing it. None of this made any sense to him. "Then why did you?"
Spencer studied his fingernails as he answered. "He made me."
Hotch could only imagine the level of shame Spencer was feeling. Clearly the young man was filled with regret. "He made you? Was it your pimp?" He asked softly.
Spencer shook his head as he continued to examine his hands. "I thought he was just another John into something kinky. I should have known something was off with him. But I needed the money, so I went."
A tear fell from Spencer's eyes. He wiped it away angrily and inhaled sharply. "He held me at gun point and tortured me for two days and shot me up with Dilaudid."
Spencer chose this moment to meet Hotch's eyes. "I think he had multiple personality disorder because he kept calling himself different names."
Spencer held his hand up, index finger extended. "Raphael would beat me and quote the bible. 'Proverbs 29: A man who loves wisdom brings joy to his father, but a companion of prostitutes squanders his wealth.' He beat me and burned me with hot pokers from a fire."
Spencer held up two fingers now. "Charles, would rape me, over and over."
One more finger joined the first two. "Tobias would give me the drugs. I think he actually thought he was helping me".
Spencer shrugged. "I thought, 'this is it, I am going to die here.' But Tobias got careless. I often wondered if he did it on purpose. I grabbed the gun and shot him. As he lay dying he looked up at me, smiled and said 'Thank You.'"
A shudder passed through Spencer's body; his eyes were unfocused. Hotch knew he was back in that moment; the image must have been crystal clear. "I didn't know what to do; the police don't exactly think highly of me, but I was in so much pain. I dialed 911 and passed out. I woke up in a hospital. At first, the police thought I was lying. That I killed him for his money. But the physical evidence spoke for itself."
The smile that crossed Spencer's face was frightening. "However, I was already addicted to Dilaudid. In my line of work, it was all too easy to find suppliers. It didn't take much to find one who was happy to trade goods for services rendered."
"How did you get clean?" Hotch asked in a voice that was barely a whisper.
Spencer's eyes narrowed as he yelled, "Enough! I got clean. I said I would help you with the case not pour out my soul."
Hotch studied the floor. He had let his curiosity about this man get the better of him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry."
Spencer looked down as well, and mimicked Hotch's quiet voice. "I know. Please, just leave it alone."
They arrived at the hotel and met up with the team for dinner. Spencer was quiet and withdrawn throughout. Garcia called in to say that the research was taking time, but she thought she was close.
They decided to call it an early night knowing that Garcia could call at any moment.
Hotch lead Spencer to their room.